this ferris wheel called life
by reallyhatebananas
Summary: Once upon a time there was a boy named Cornelius. He fell so far. ::one-shot revealing the life of one Cornelius Fudge and five kisses that he stole, written for the Five Kisses Competition:: EDIT: 3rd place


**A/N: **Written for the **'Five Kisses' Challenge **by** XxXRegretXxX****. **Completely random. And weird… because I am under the influence of drugs known as cough medicine. Gah.

**Warning: **Contains large dosage of Fudge. If you suffer from any sort of food allergies (such as chocolate, peanuts, or cranberries) please do not read. Or, to quote Tara the Great, 'no flamgin ya pozers!' Ah, how I love her… oh right—this is un-Beta'd. Nearly all my pieces are, actually, until I find a long-term Beta.

**Disclaimer: **/flails

i can haz say i no own bahaha

**EDIT: **To my surprise and everlasting joy, this won third place in the competition! Thank you, oh kind gods of fate!

**I:**

Selwyn Mullen presses his lips to the girl's stomach. It's empty and flat.

"I love you."

She looks up at him through the fringe of her hair and whispers, "I love you, too." She watches as the edges of the room swirl and darken before everything goes black.

_Maybe she shouldn't have had so much wine_.

Two months later Jennifer Fudge realizes that she's pregnant—_pregnant_, with that bastard's child. She would call him but he never gave a number, and his name—Mullen, was it?—is nowhere to be found. She'd wonder if he ever existed if not for the growing proof inside of her.

The son—_her son_—is born and she names him Cornelius after that Pope. After all, she just _knows_ that her little angel will go on to do great things.

**II:**

Cornelius Fudge isn't the smartest boy in his class, but he certainly isn't a fool. He knows that his teacher, Ms. Hernstum, is a very pretty lady with her dark hair and eyes. He also knows that she's too old for him.

He's only ten but he fancies himself in love.

Months later he knows he's leaving—turns out the Hogwarts letter _wasn't_ a hoax—and he's not going to see her again. He stays after class on the last day before the summer hols.

"Neil? What are you _doing_ here—school's out! Go home and have fun with your friends."

He's blushing, painfully self-conscious with his big ears and curls. "Missus Hernst'm, I dunno—I just wanted..."

Before she can do more than raise one thick eyebrow he's leaned up and pecked her on the cheek, scrambling out of the classroom without seeing her reaction.

He thinks she smiled, though.

**III:**

He's fourteen and nothing's ever happened to him—not really. He likes to read, about princesses and dragons and gallant men and magic swords, so he wonders why his own life's so… dull.

He's a wizard. He has _magic_. Shouldn't that make things a little bit interesting for him?

Well, it doesn't. And he's always been just a bit too _reactive_, not _proactive_, to go out and change that.

But then there's a night—Halloween, he thinks—when Elizabeth Brown is sitting in the common room and it's just him and her and she looks so _beautiful_ in the fire's light.

Without thinking, he says her name and kisses her. It's everything he thought it would be until she slaps him in the face.

It's not like his mother had much luck in relationships, either.

**IV:**

Cornelius has just become Minister of Magic and he's proud.

He wonders if his mum's watching from up above. He wonders how that teacher of his—Hernstum, was it?—and the Brown girl would feel if they knew they'd kissed such an important man. They'd be shocked and amazed and impressed.

Maybe.

His first night in office is difficult—more so than he expects—so he has a few too many butterbeers. It's not like he can mess up anything too badly, after all. Even if he's drunk.

Amelia Bones comes in—pretty girl; stubborn, but sweet—with a question about some internship or other. He's not too young anymore so he kisses her full on the mouth. She kisses back. Maybe there's something after that—there could be memories buried in the alcohol-induced haze.

Like father, like son.

**V:**

"Ah, Minister Fudge—though it's just Fudge, now, isn't it?"

Sometimes he wonders where Cornelius Fudge went and who took his place.

He's forty-something and You-Know-Who's in his seventies and Dumbledore is Merlin-knows-how-old and yet somehow, _somehow_, he feels he's made the most mistakes out of the three.

Maybe he has.

"So kind of you to join us."

After all, he's the one who lied and abused his power and twisted the laws and—he can't take it anymore. He allowed the darkest wizard of all time to take a second hit at the world.

He knows nobody will mourn him and really, he can't blame them.

"I wanted to thank you personally for all you've done for our cause—you _did_, after all, grant us an uninterrupted year to rally our forces. Lord Voldemort appreciates the useful, Cornelius."

Potter—Dumbledore—Weasley—he's hit by a sudden urge to apologize to them, to make amends, but it's too late. He's spent his life being selfish and now he'll never change.

His mother would be ashamed of him. He's sure of it.

"He also rewards his followers, but you aren't that, are you? No, you're just a fool who fell in with the wrong crowd."

Cornelius regrets trusting Lucius—no, _Malfoy_—but he did, and he paid for it. There's no way out.

He looks up into the red eyes—_red, like poppies_, he thinks—of the man. He won't call him 'You-Know-Who' because he's tired of being afraid. He can't call him his enemy because he hasn't earned the right. Cornelius knows that he's done nothing good in this war—nothing, really, but harm those who were trying to help. He's done more to aid the Dark than to stop it.

"However, Lord Voldemort is feeling merciful. You will be rewarded, Cornelius."

With death. He's no fool, even if he isn't the smartest.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

He doesn't close his eyes at the sound. For the first time he faces his fear head on, watching the bright green streak towards him.

It hits him in the cheek and Cornelius wonders if that's what a real kiss is like—warm, firm, and gentle all at the same time.

Maybe.

**…**

He'll never know.

**…**

It's too late to find out.

**.FIN.**

skrkgh;akhb fgf;akek;jhgdrnhklhawer vblkasehrea;artjhblkjh

/headdeskkeyboard/

I don't actually like him. And my vision is blurring. So I'm going to lie down and die now. See ya.

…review? Prettypretty please with a mushroom on top? (Because cherries are _so_ passé)


End file.
